


getting awful crowded in my sky

by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup)



Category: Firefly, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bars and Pubs, Gen, Post-Serenity (2005), Pre-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedibuttercup/pseuds/Jedi%20Buttercup
Summary: Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the mid-bulk transport shipSerenityhad visited many so-called dens of iniquity over the years, some of which had deserved the name more successfully than others.  And he didn't like what he was seeing in this particular cantina one bit.
Relationships: Malcolm Reynolds & Han Solo
Comments: 47
Kudos: 115
Collections: Crossworks 2020





	getting awful crowded in my sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/gifts).



> Nothing to see here, just a pair of smugglers making a deal, move along. :)
> 
> Assumes most of Firefly canon took place in the Star Wars 'verse, with a few adjustments to align it with the Star Wars timeline and political bodies; set roughly in the gap between Episodes IV and V. Title's a quote from the Serenity movie.

Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the mid-bulk transport ship _Serenity_ had visited many so-called dens of iniquity over the years, some of which had deserved the name more successfully than others. And he didn't like what he was seeing in this particular cantina one bit.

"Is it just me," he commented to his first mate, "or have half the people in this bar taken a shot at us, one time or another?"

Zoë lifted one dark, eloquent brow. "Slightly more than that, unless I miss my guess. Still feeling sanguine about this meet with Solo, sir?"

"What'd you say that word means? Hopeful, but also bloody?" He shrugged. "Jobs haven't been thick enough in the air of late to feel easy about turning him down sight unseen. Leastwise, jobs I'd feel comfortable taking. Still, keep a hand on your weapon – this thing goes south, I'll want a quick exit."

Zoë nodded, then glanced back over her shoulder to their gunhand. "Brought your grenades this time, Jayne?"

The big man was festooned with bandoliers and pouches over his usual screen print tee shirt; Mal had thought about dissuading him, but well, they _had_ been useful a time or three. Jayne patted one pouch with a toothy grin, and nodded. "Don't leave the ship without 'em any more."

The rest of the crew had been left back to mind the store; last time they'd brought most of them to a meet, events had gone a great deal more interesting than Mal would like. He'd balanced the chances of their being useful this time against the risk that a bounty hunter or an old acquaintance with a grudge might complicate matters, and decided to stick with the smaller, more manageable party of three.

They threaded their way through the crowd of sentients gathered around the small tables spaced across the cantina floor and thronging at the bar; even if his tall, hairy co-pilot didn't stick out like a signpost, Mal knew Solo's habits. Table near the back, clear sightlines to the door, a place where he could meet peaceably – or not so much – without undue fuss. And there he was, looking much like he had the last time they'd crossed paths: dark blue trousers with bloodstripes up the sides, a black vest over an offwhite collared shirt, and an irritatingly smug expression on his face.

"Reynolds, you old spacer, it's good to see you still in one piece," Solo said, rising from the table and extending a hand like they were better friends than Mal remembered.

He took it and let the other man pull him in for a shoulder clasp, smiling back through gritted teeth. "Yeah, wish I could say the same to you. Heard you was workin' for the rebels these days."

"It's _with_ , not _for_. And keep your voice down, would ya?" Han's grin dimmed a little as he cast a wary eye around the cantina. "Not that half the galaxy probably hasn't heard, but I'd prefer not to draw that kind of attention in here. I've still got a price on my head, you know."

"Interesting place for a meet, then," Zoë commented dryly.

"You'd prefer I invited you back to my ship instead?" Han shrugged.

" _That_ hunk of junk?" Mal couldn't resist replying. The Corellian YT-1300 light freighter Solo flew might be famously fast, but it was also famously crosswired, crotchety, and more than a little outdated. Much like a certain 03-K64 Firefly-class cargo boat he knew, in fact.

"Says the man who still flies around in a _civilian_ -model Series 3 Firefly," Han replied, smirking. "So are we going to do business, or aren't we?"

Mal snorted, but took the hint and sat down across from Solo and the Wookiee, gesturing Zoë to the seat beside him. Jayne took up post with his back to the table and arms crossed over his chest without needing to be told, to keep an eye on the rest of the patrons while they were talking.

"Business with you? Or business with the rebels?" he asked. "Because from what I've heard the last few years, you aren't so much swimming in creds that you can afford to subcontract the likes of us."

"Does it matter where the money comes from, as long as it spends the same?" Han spread his hands wide. "There's a number of cargoes that need moving, and the quicker and more discreetly they can be moved, the better. My ship's a lot of things, but discreet's not so much one of them these days, as you just so helpfully pointed out. So of course, I immediately thought of you."

Somehow, Mal rather doubted they'd been top of the list. _Serenity_ had her own share of infamy these days, if slightly less so than the _Millennium Falcon_. But older-model Fireflies were a dime a dozen outside the core worlds, and they _did_ need the credits. Still. 

"You do know the full name of the organization you're working _with_ these days, don't you? The Alliance to Restore the Republic? The Republic that ground my world under the boots of its troops, not so many years back?" He tugged pointedly at the collar of his brown leather duster. "What makes you think I want to be of use to the likes of them?"

Not all who'd fought for the Separatists had been droids, Trade Federation, or the like. Some had just wanted to defend their homeworlds – and their right to rule themselves, out from under the long arm of the galactic government. He didn't think history had proven them wrong about that one.

"Hell, you think _I'm_ in it for the ideals?" Han chuckled. "Chewie, maybe," he added, gesturing toward his copilot, "but me? I'm in it for my friends, and to earn the credits to pay back Jabba. But if it helps, think of it less as helping the rebels, and more sticking it to the Empire. From what _I've_ heard, you've got a few scores to settle there, too."

He tipped his chin toward the cantina's open door as he spoke – and Mal glanced up to see his youngest crewmember walking through, dressed to draw attention in a shiny sleeveless sheath of a dress over heavy combat boots.

"Zāogāo," he cursed under his breath. Though he supposed he really shouldn't have expected aught else. River was – well, Mal didn't know the official term for it; she'd referred to her former handlers as 'Hands', and there'd been a lot of mystical Force nonsense mixed up in the records Simon had found trying to figure out what the Empire's secret Academy had done to her. Assassin didn't quite fit, either; he liked to call her a reader, but the gist of it was she knew and felt things she shouldn't, and followed where those feelings led her, regardless of the opinions or orders of any authority-type beings around her. Violence was often involved. She'd been mostly piloting the ship while Zoë's husband recovered from their last big adventure, now that she was sailing on a more even keel, but she did still take the occasional wild hair, and woe betide the man that tried to stop her.

Jayne perked up as she drew close; Mal gave her a stern look and pointed her to Jayne's side. She grinned cheekily at him and Zoë, sketched a perfect curtsey, then started slipping through the crowd as he turned back to face Solo. "All right. Say you've got my attention. What kind of cargoes are we talking about, exactly? What sort of delivery schedule?"

Preliminary bristling over with, they got down to dickering; Mal did his best to tune out the sounds of chaos that erupted along River's path – long as there weren't any explosions, he did _not_ need to know the details – and Jayne's chuckle as he moved to join her, focusing his attention on the job.

By the time he, Solo, and their partners came to an agreement a few minutes later and shook hands once more, the cantina was a good deal quieter than when they'd arrived, and River and Jayne both looked a mite too flushed and sweaty for Mal's peace of mind.

"Enjoy yourselves?" Mal asked pointedly as they stopped beside the table.

River beamed at him. "He knows how to show a girl a good time," she replied, airily.

"Still, too much of a good thing might draw the local law; so if you'd get yourselves back to the ship now, I'd take that as a kindness," he said. The words were for River; the pointed glance that accompanied them for Jayne.

"Aw, c'mon," Jayne replied. "It didn't look like _you_ were in any danger of bein' shot, and half those húndàns had it coming. Not like most of 'em are dead, anyway. Ain't no one gonna call the law on _their_ account."

"Jayne," Zoë repeated for him.

"We're goin', we're goin'," Jayne sighed, making out like he was mightily put-upon, and held an arm out to River. "If the crazy little lady'd like to accompany me?"

River giggled as if he'd just paid her the finest compliment, settled a hand bird-light on the arm, and accompanied him out as pretty as you please.

Solo and Chewbacca watched them go with astonishment. "Say, she's not some kind of princess, is she?" Han asked, slowly.

"Not so far's I know. Though you might think it, to look at her brother. Boy's even prettier, all kinds of idealistic, and dragged my crew wholesale into his damnfool crusade the moment we met them. Still. They was as babes in a basket; couldn't exactly leave them to the mercies of the galaxy."

Chewbacca said something pointed and amused in Wookiee; Solo's expression grew a little distant, but he chuckled. "Yeah, I know how that goes. Had a good feeling about you, Reynolds. Good to know I was right."

 _River_ was what had convinced Solo he was trustworthy? Well, wasn't that unexpected.

"Look forward to working with you, then, Solo," he replied with a more genuine smile. "Try not to get your ship shot out from under you again 'fore the next time we meet."

"Same to you, my friend. Same to you."


End file.
